The Quiet Man
by vanhunks
Summary: A J/C humour/romance story. In a matter of weeks, Chakotay changes from a nice man to a not so nice man. Kathryn kisses the hologram Michael and Chakotay kills Baby Jake. The Warrior is on the warpath. Who's angry?


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The Quiet Man

A Fair Haven Coda, of sorts.

by

vanhunks

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Rating: PG-13

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Summary: In a matter of weeks, Chakotay changes from a nice man to a not so nice man. Kathryn kisses the hologram Michael and Chakotay kills Baby Jake. Who's angry?  
  
This is my own coda (of sorts, with due embellishments) on the episode: Fair Haven. Hey, there's still hope for us J/Cer's!  
  
**Disclaimer** - Paramount is Chief.  
  
**Note**: It was irresistible. The title stared at me. With the greatest respect (and apology!) to John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara who played the boxer and the lady in "The Quiet Man". Something of the premise of that film I also used freely for the writing of this story.

Please, dear reader, this is just my fantasy! I gave little attention to detail or strict canon. It is purely entertainment. I just couldn't resist to let Chakotay have his way...again.

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THE QUIET MAN

Chakotay stumbled out of the holodeck, a thunderous expression on his face. 

"Ain't smokin' no peace pipe today," a brash young Ensign Lor murmured to his friend as they passed the Commander. 

"Who's he gonna scalp today?" his partner asked.

Chakotay paused. The ensigns paused. The ensigns scurried fearfully to put a great distance between them and the Commander in the quickest possible time. 

"Whew! That was close," muttered Lor as they vanished round a corner and stood still, momentarily out of breath. "I thought my head was gone."

"Today," Ensign Jinx replied, "no one messes with the Commander." 

"Amen! Let's go!" 

*

Chakotay's right eye was swelling. It turned into a wicked looking purple puff which grew puffier as he strode down the corridor. Below his left eye, right on the zygomatic arch, was a two centimetre long bleeding cut. Bright red blood oozed from the gash and trickled down his cheek where it congealed in the unfair dimple. The Unfair Dimple was appended to Chakotay after some of the female crew complained that no man should have dimples that made him uncommonly attractive the moment he smiled. This time though, said unfair dimple was not caused by the Commander's inimitable smile as another lowly ensign who passed Chakotay by slinking as close to the bulkhead and as far away as possible from the Commander, noted later to his friends in the mess hall. He told everyone the Commander's face was drawn into his Angry Warrior full battle cry mode. In that mood the Commander's dimples meant trouble and imminent misfortune to unsuspecting ensigns who crossed his path. The raging tattoo didn't ease the look of fury on Chakotay's face.

Heedless of the curious stares of crewmembers who slowed their steps then hurried quickly away him lest danger befell them, Chakotay headed for the turbolift. Today the lift was an extra hundred metres away, it felt like. No one dared to snicker, even though the picture of an irate Commander in purple and gold satin boxer shorts with an untied matching robe that flowed behind him was very amusing. The broad satin waist band of his robe trailed on the floor as he strode forward. Woe betide the ensign who suggested, even remotely, that Commander Chakotay was drunk. He only walked that way. 

There was definitely a storm cloud brewing over his head. No jokes today about flashy satin mix'n'match and sexy boxers and cunning left hooks and the back of his robe sporting his new name: The Warrior. 

Today was not the day. 

The crew - more correctly, the denizens of the lower decks - had been seeing things and no doubt hearing too, in the last few weeks. The Captain in a long dress, ugg_gly_! The Captain's hair up in a bun that reminded them of her Power Year… Ugg_gly_! Tom and Harry joined at the hip, the Doctor dressed like a Vicar... That hologram was becoming a pain in the nether regions as far as they were concerned, for whomsoever entered the Infirmary was soon greeted with: "Welcome, my child. Enter ye, and be healed…" 

But in six years they had become accustomed to the EMH's eccentricities, Tuvok's impassivity, Seven's unconscious arrogance, the romance of the year blossom, Harry having yet another lover, the Captain… 

So what else was new on this ship?

The Commander looking like he's been in the wars.

*

Chakotay swore as he approached the turbolift. Damn! He had to remove a glove so he could get operate the panels. He tugged furiously with his teeth at the laces of his right glove, then swore again as he bit into the soft tissue of his gum. 

Ouch!

Damn! 

He tasted blood. 

He had a mind to spit in the bucket, realised where he was and swore under his breath. He swallowed his blood and uttered another Angry Warrior expletive. By this time he had vision only in his left eye, the one with the deep cut; the right eye had swollen shut. Hugging the other glove under his arm, he sagged against the wall of the turbolift, closing his good eye. He muttered a curse. What good eye? He touched the cut gingerly with his fingers and winced before he ordered: 

"Deck 2."

He sagged against the turbolift wall, touched his lips and muttered under his breath:

"At least something that didn't swell or break open."

"You should see the Doctor, Commander."

Kathryn.

He closed his supposed good eye. Where the hell did she come from?

"Did you materialise through the bulkhead, Captain?" he asked with a nasty edge to his voice. 

His head felt woozy and he was certain his legs were starting to buckle under him. What was that damned shivering of his knees? Then his voice. Oh, spirits... he actually slurred! And, he couldn't see her clearly. Was she standing with her arms crossed over her breast and laughing at him? 

"How many rounds did you go with Baby Jake, Commander?" she asked, ignoring his question and looking particularly amused. 

Chakotay peered at her through his good eye - the one with the two centimetre gash on the zygomatic arch - and pursed his lips. He pushed his gloved hand against her shoulder and barked:

"None of your business." 

"Computer, halt lift."

She pushed his hand from her and moved so that she stood face to face with him. He bristled, squared his shoulders and looked ready to punch her. 

"What's going on, Commander?"

He raised his hands, then sighed. He was feeling the stinging pain of the swelling and the gash, and he could still taste the blood in his mouth. Her eyes smiled. Kathryn smiled. That was his undoing again. He saw red, then a series blinding flashes, then images of Baby Jake kissing the canvas, and Kathryn... Kathryn kissing…_that man_…_._

"Captain," he slurred. He was wobbling and tried to stand up straight. Damn! She wasn't allowing him some dignified way to answer her. He was literally punch drunk. He tried again: "Captain, nothing that could interest you, I assure you - "

"Chakotay! You are injured!" came her exclamation. She appeared surprised that he wasn't allowing reason dictate his actions. He usually listened to her... 

"This is nothing, Captain. None of your business either." Oh, why was he sounding like a drunken slob unable to stand still? And why did she look as if she were laughing at him?

Kathryn raised one elegant eyebrow

Had she looked remotely compassionate, or sympathetic - not that he wanted her sympathy anyway - he would have paused, allowed her to cluck over him, told her how he killed Baby Jake by mistake, _and _willingly gone to sickbay on her order.

Kathryn Janeway smiled, a wicked smile that curved her mouth into that damned upward lift that was a clear sign she was humouring him the same way she did with unsuspecting lowly ensigns. She was laughing at him! She was clearly asking: "Which side of whose bed, Commander...?"

He almost thundered again. He was in no humour to be humoured. 

"Computer, resume lift."

He alighted at his deck, wobbled a step before he moved as gracefully as he possibly could muster. The band of the robe trailed behind him and the open robe flared as he stumbled away. Then he imagined he heard Kathryn Janeway's laugh following him down the corridor.

He left a gaping Kathryn Janeway still standing in the lift, wondering what just happened to her first officer. He had been behaving strangely the last few weeks. Today was the first she had seen him so mutinous. 

"I thought I told you to take a day or two off and stay in your quarters with a good book," she remembered telling him a year ago, when he had been terrorised by an alien presence. Then he had been boxing his head off. Almost literally. 

"Boxing helps me unwind." Chakotay's words. He had his smiling dimples then, not the angry ones in which the blood from his left eye had congealed. 

Unwind? 

Was getting beat up his way of unwinding? Boxing with, obviously, the safeties off?

She thought idly of his great calves and impressive pectorals and smiled again. How typical. The storms could ravish you and you'd still reflect on a man's physique. 

Good thing he didn't know...

__

If only you knew, Chakotay...

She sighed as she made her entrance on the bridge. She had a bone to pick with her first officer as soon as she came off duty. 

Which was... She groaned. Four hours from now. Hopefully Chakotay will have seen the doctor by then, cleared up his injuries, taken a nap, seen his spirit guide and be in a better mood.

Why was he so disturbed?

**

Chakotay removed the other glove and flung it across the room. It landed with a thud on the floor just beneath his viewport. He sank to his knees, uttered a wild cry before his shoulders shook for a few seconds. 

When he stopped, he got up and stripped as he walked towards his shower. He was naked by the time he stepped into the sonic shower.

Images of the fight flashed in his mind. Boothby's angry outburst, his own anguished cry as Baby Jake remained prone after the count.

"No...no, he wasn't supposed to die, Boothby! Look at him!"

Boothby shot him a furious glance, then shook the dead boxer. He nodded sadly as he looked at Chakotay again. The Warrior had taken a beating today and he had given his opponent more than his measure. There was a lot of anger in him.

"Your anger won today, Warrior Man. Your anger killed your opponent. That is not how I trained you - "

Chakotay had been on his knees in the ring, his gloved hands against the canvas, his head bent in total dejection and heartache. He killed his opponent. He killed Baby Jake. 

"Come on, Commander," Paris had said softly, his eyes strangely kind, "he was a hologram..."

God...

He knew that. Yet, Baby Jake felt real to him. No, Chakotay corrected. It was the very thought that had Baby Jake been flesh and blood, he would have been a dead man and he, Chakotay, with the blood of another on his hands. 

Chakotay dressed in his uniform after the shower. He still felt a little lightheaded but he kept on cursing himself.

"So much for the safeties off. You get to kill or be killed," he said derisively as he prepared to leave again. His right eye had purple and blue bruises, and the pain in the gash below his left eye throbbed fiercely. 

"Doc, if you preach to me again today..." he muttered as he made his way to the sickbay.

***

"You did what?" Chakotay asked incredulously.

"I've deleted your boxing training programme, Commander," Kathryn Janeway told him in her ready room. 

"You can't do that, Kathryn!"

"Oh, but I can assure you I can, Commander." She leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms and smiled smugly at him.

Chakotay leaned over the desk, his fists planted firmly on the surface. He was fuming. He was foaming at the mouth. It wasn't enough that he was plagued by guilt at killing his favourite holographic opponent, now this. It was an insult. It was an outrage. It was a serious violation of his human rights. It was _Kathryn_ making arbitrary decisions… 

"It's outrageous, Kathryn, and you know it. An invasion of - "

"What, Chakotay? The Captain shouldn't be concerned that her first officer wants to kill himself?"

"It's not like that!" He was shouting at her but she hardly blinked. . 

"Then tell me, _Commander_," she emphasized, "why I shouldn't be concerned."

He could have given many reasons why she should be concerned, instead:

"It's none of your business, Captain," he said stonily. He had endured the Doctor/Priest stern/caring - "I intend to see my flock enter the next realm in one piece" - admonishment and knew Kathryn was going to put him on the carpet. He knew the rules. He balked that she had to remind him of it. 

"Well, then, let see," Kathryn said as she took up a PADD. "Three weeks ago, two cracked ribs which the Doctor fixed _hours_ after you had been injured. You sat on the bridge in great pain yet you ignored sound advice. Two weeks ago, a broken nose and a burst ear drum, also tended to by the Vicar - er, Doctor only hours later. Then days ago, both eyes swollen, again a broken nose. A week ago, you dislodged a tooth, your left eyebrow split open, you had a _cleft lip _and then today - "

"Okay, okay. I get the message - "

"No, Chakotay, it seems you don't," Kathryn said hotly as she plonked the PADD down on the desk.

"I will just do another programme, Kathryn."

"Chakotay," she sighed elegantly, "I can't let my first officer and friend take unnecessary risks."

"And I can't let you baby me, Captain," he said, the cloudbanks rolling above his head again as he pictured her in _that man's_ arms. 

"What have you done with my friend, Chakotay?" she asked as she saw the mutinous gleam in his eye. "You know, the one who is always calm and _listens_?" Why was Chakotay so driven? 

Chakotay gave a sigh. 

"He's right here, Kathryn, he never left the ship."

"Frankly, I don't see much of him - "

"No, you wouldn't, would you? Tell me, Captain, how many times have you visited your Irish lover?"

There was a thunderous silence in the ready room as Kathryn's face registered first surprise that he knew she was going to Fair Haven again, then shock, then...mortification.

"I - it's none of your business, Chakotay..."

"Touché."

"Commander, I - "

"As I said, Captain, your friend is right here, alive and well, and the spirits help him, kicking up a mad storm after you - you..." 

"Promised..." she whispered softly. Her eyes were suddenly clouded and Chakotay felt instantly sorry that he goaded her. But he wasn't going to apologise. He had back-up programmes and he knew that she knew. He would fight Baby Jake II and III if it could bring her back to the living, breathing, _flesh and blood_ possibilities.

"Now, can I get my programme back?" he asked brusquely.

Kathryn Janeway stood there, and whether she wanted to refuse or not, whether she had the right to infringe on his leisure time or not, she nodded her head automatically. 

Chakotay fumed for a few seconds, then turned on his heel and left the ready room. 

"Commander - " Tuvok still started, but Chakotay stormed past him after almost knocking the Security Officer off his feet and entered the lift.

Three officers passed meaningful glances at each other. Tom looked round and grinned at Harry, Harry smiled at Seven, Seven raised an eyebrow and Tuvok remained stoic. His was the unfortunate position at the Security Console of having irate Captains, first officers, chastised crewmen, senior officers, and mess hall sergeants barging past him, knocking him off his feet without so much as a nod and a by-your-leave before they vanished into the turbolift.

It was a quiet, subdued Captain who entered the bridge and sat down in her command chair.

She wasn't even on duty.

***

A month later.

Chakotay sat at a table in the pub, nursing his drink and staring morosely at the counter. He hadn't been to his boxing programme, didn't want to face Boothby's wrath and was in no mood to do anything else than brood. He missed his old sparring partner, if truth be told. That was one hologram that gave him hell in the ring. He didn't want to revive Baby Jake...

Why the heck did he come here? Paris should have scuttled this programme in its entirety two months ago, when Kathryn...

Damn. 

He couldn't get her out of his mind.

He had sworn not to get into a boxing ring again, not even with the safeties on. He had been something of a godawful fool to let Kathryn get to him like that. He had been sweet and kind to her, gentle in the extreme, not letting her feel that what she had done on the holodeck with her own special modifications had been the chasing of a fantasy. 

Yeah. He was kind. He was nice. Nice Chakotay always smiling. He could join Paris in the "who gets to hide his pain behind a mask the best" stakes and win. Why should she care? Why should _he_ care? She couldn't form relationships with anyone. Where did the rules say that Captains had to put locks on their hearts?

She gave hers alright. She unlocked her heart and someone got lucky. Someone? More like _something_, he thought. And right here. All of it. 

It wasn't real. She was kissing a hologram for heaven's sake! What was that Michael but a collection of photonic particles with no particular feeling unless its creator programmed it this way and that way? Kathryn was having a royal fling with - God!- no strings attached, no sweat, no commitment, no duty. God knows what else she indulged in...

No strings.

Yeah, right. 

She was getting it all. The passion, the freedom, the love, the sweat...

__

Come on, Kathryn, I know you better than that. You are too refined to resort to this...I know you too well to indulge yourself with a hologram.

"Maybe I didn't know you that well," he muttered under his breath as he started into his glass. .

It wasn't real, Kathryn. You understood that. Your very intelligence, your subconscious had to be aware all the time that _that man_ was just a bag of wind. Yet, why...? 

Not real.

Then again, Baby Jake wasn't real. Baby Jake was a hologram created for Chakotay's amusement. So why was it so difficult for him to accept that Baby Jake died? Why was it so difficult to let Kathryn see him, Chakotay, as more than just a pussyfooting friend and first officer too damned kind not to hurt her feelings? Too damned careful around her, and too damned nice not to be the jerk he sometimes wanted to be. Mister Nice Guy. God dammit! He wanted to be bad for once. Bad! Mad and bad!

__

I know only too well what I can do when I'm angry. Ask a few dead Cardassians... Ask Baby Jake...

"You alone here, Mister?"

"And who might you be?" Chakotay asked without looking up, though knowing all too well. 

"Michael."

"Michael. Naturally."

Chakotay looked the man up and down and wondered illogically what the hell Kathryn saw in him. He didn't even have dimples, the most important thing the ladies fell for. A hologram. Unbelievable that Kathryn could form an attachment with a hologram...

"Is it a surprise to you, er..."

"Chakotay."

"Is it surprising? Are you also waiting for someone?"

"What do you think?" Chakotay asked brusquely, then added: "What's it to you?"

"This lady..."

Lady...

"I'm also waiting for my woman."

My woman. Chakotay felt the bile rising in him. He hadn't been drinking much, but felt drunk. Something was happening. This bag of filth was looking upon Kathryn as his woman... It sounded like something from a bad Tom Paris B-movie where ladies were gangsters' molls. 

Chakotay shrank inwardly. He could deck this jerk with one left hook and a mild one at that. He could even tell the bag of filth "I'll knock you out with my left hook" and give Michael a head start in preparing a retaliatory blow and still deck the bastard. Chakotay felt his ears burn and he knew his fuse was getting shorter. Who programmed Michael to be a weasel? 

"She's one hell of a woman."

Chakotay rose from his seat and the chair toppled over as he jerked up. 

"One more word from you, you oily bag of sh- "

"When she kisses me she goes all soft and I could make love to her right here, on the floor." 

Chakotay had no doubt that the weasel could be right. Just the thought that Kathryn could be writhing beneath a photonic collection of light particles made him see red again. The Warrior was on the war path. Michael added insult to his injury by saying: 

"She's done it too, you know - "

"You bastard! I'll - "

"_Chakotay_!"

He turned blazing eyes on the owner of that voice and could just discern her through the blur of his anger. Still, she caught him in the act and that enraged him even more.

"Captain? What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you the same question, Chakotay."

Did Kathryn look guilty? She cast her eyes at Michael who stared at her with a confused expression on his holographic face. He looked stupid.

"Katy?"

Oh, God. He called her _Katy_... Chakotay felt the burn of victory at the thought that he could disillusion the oily bag of filth. He looked stupid enough. Now to add to Michael's confusion and stupidity and _set the record straight_ once and for all and gain an important victory without raising a gloved hand... Michael could hit the deck and kiss the canvas without a single blow having fallen.

"She's Captain Kathryn Janeway," Chakotay said triumphantly. "Didn't Kathryn tell you she's the Captain of the USS Voyager?"

"A steamship?" 

God, Michael was stupid. He missed Kathryn's rank.

"You could say that," Chakotay rolled on, enjoying Kathryn's discomfort.

"Commander."

"Commander?" Michael asked stupidly, looking at the two of them in their red uniforms.

"I'm her second-in-command." Chakotay voiced it so that _second-in-command_ had an erotic ring to it. "She commands and I comply..." 

Chakotay smiled. But Michael recovered quickly. He pulled Kathryn to him, kissed her fiercely then looked at Chakotay. There was a victorious gleam in his eyes.

"I'm her lover."

Chakotay's fists balled furiously. He clamped his mouth shut and closed his eyes for a second. He wanted to kill the motor-mouth Michael. He thought of Baby Jake. Kathryn, flustered, was still standing in Michael's arms. She saw the war raging in Chakotay and extricated herself from Michael's arms.

"Chakotay..."

"He's not real, Kathryn," Chakotay whispered hoarsely. "He's not real..."

He wanted to tell Kathryn: "Here, look at me, Kathryn. Chakotay-by-your-side-for-more-than-five-years. Why don't you take me? I'm real...I'm real..."

He didn't tell her.

Kathryn looked at her first officer and thought:

__

Oh, Chakotay...if only you knew...

There was a stricken look on her face as she reached for Chakotay but felt her movement curbed as Michael pulled her back.

"You are mine, Katy. Mine..." Michael murmured possessively. 

Did someone change the programme? Kathryn wondered as she looked at Michael, thinking he was suddenly acting like a boor, one who didn't deserve capitals to his name. _No caps michael..._

"Kathryn," Chakotay implored passionately, "you know and I know and the world and his second cousin knows that we can change holograms to suit our needs, and whatever we find unpleasant, we delete. That's it. The good is there with the bad, and we have to learn to deal with it. Jake... I couldn't programme him back. I didn't want to. It wasn't right. What you are doing is feed a fantasy, Kathryn. Someday it won't be enough. Not nearly enough. Then what are you going to do? Live in a world of holo-addiction?" He breathed hard as though he had been running a great distance. The he added: "And to crown it all, the oily bag of filth snores..."

"Chakotay, please, you've said enough." 

Then Michael piped up.

"Yes, you've said enough." 

If that had been all. But Michael reached forward and poked at Chakotay's chest with his forefinger. Chakotay took a step back. A small step. It was more the surprise that Michael was spoiling for something he was going to lose than actually the force of the shove. Then Michael advanced and poked again. 

"Oh, no..." Kathryn breathed. "Michael, don't..."

Kathryn looked around her in embarrassment as people from the pub started gathering around them. And, to add to the insult, Tom and Harry slipped through the doors of the holodeck. Oh, dear God... 

"Captain, we have finally - "

"Uh-oh..." came Harry's rejoinder.

She swung round to them, then cast a stricken look at Michael, who poked Chakotay a third time.

"Don't...do that," Chakotay warned through clenched teeth, his fists balled that the knuckles showed white. "I don't want to kill you..."

Michael laughed. Yeah, right. Like he knew he couldn't be annihilated. 

Tom looked at Harry. Harry looked at Chakotay. Chakotay looked at Michael. No one looked at Kathryn. 

Said Tom: "Okay, Harry, here's the bet: all this week's rations says The Weasel will take Warrior Man in two."

"Hey, I'm no weasel!" complained Michael, his attention momentarily taken from his opponent. 

"You're on!" said Harry excitedly, "The Warrior will take The Weasel." Harry did a double take. "The Weasel?". Tom nodded and Harry agreed. "The Warrior will take The Weasel in a second round knock-out with his clever left hook."

"No way," Tom laughed, his eyes shining at the prospect of collecting Harry's rations, "Warrior Man killed Baby Jake, remember? He's vowed not to fight again. He's down on his luck."

"How disloyal can you be, Tom?" Harry sounded gladly outraged. He looked at the Michael and Chakotay stalking each other and then he exclaimed:

"Oh, no, no, no, no...."

"What?" Tom asked suddenly, seeing Harry's eyes widen. 

"The safeties are off. We're still fixing it, Tom!"

"So what? All The Warrior will get is - Whoa!"

"What!"

"Look!"

"I'm looking!"

*

"I was on my university's boxing team," Michael boasted, stepping forward to shove Chakotay again. 

"Kathryn..."

"Michael, I think you'd better sto - " Kathryn started.

"He's in the way, Katy, tell _him_ to go." Kathryn danced between the two like a flustered referee ready to count one of them out.

"Chakotay, I know you don't want to do this," Kathryn pleaded, "please let's go - "

"What? Who says I don't want to? I'm going to kill this - "

"Let's go..."

"No!" Michael shouted, "you stay. I'll give this - this man-in-the-wilderness a what-for Kathryn, for you." 

He looked at Chakotay and goaded and gloated. It was patently clear to him that Chakotay wasn't wanting to get physical. 

Michael got brave.

He danced two steps, jabbed with his left hook at Chakotay's jaw. Chakotay dodged, just missing the fist that would have connected with his face.

"Come on, are you afraid, Wet Blanket?" Michael taunted, then lunged forward with a right hook, this time hitting Chakotay square on his jaw.

"Chakotay!" Kathryn cried as his head snapped back. He stumbled unsteadily, rubbed his jaw and blew smoked through his ears. He was an enraged bull that thundered forward towards Michael. 

*

"Oh, heck!" Tom said to Harry, "I'm about to lose my rations. The Warrior is going to lick The Weasel. But he's holding back, Harry! What's he doing?" 

"He's got the strength of an elephant, Tom," Harry replied happily, the thought of extra rations imminently pleasing. "Just watch him."

"Oh, no. There's a cloudbank over Chakotay's head. Look! He's about to explode!" 

"This I've got to see. Ringside seats!" 

"Wow, did you see that?"

"The Warrior has a mean left hook arm and a quicksilver right jab. Hey, I think he has greater reach with his right arm than his left- "

"Who the hell said that?"

"I made it up, dummy. Look! He just popped The Weasel's eye! Oh, no! The Weasel's jumped right back!" 

"That's it, Warrior Man, let him sweat it. The Weasel's throwing around some empty punches. He'll get tired - "

"Hey! Whose side are you on?" Harry asked incredulously. 

Tom shook his head shamefacedly. "Everyone loves a winner!" 

"Tom, I think you'd better get the Captain out of the way. She trying to stop them."

"Harry, Harry, Harry... She's fine, can't you see? The Warrior is moving the fight away from her, or... Oh, dear..." 

"Yeah. She'll walk out here with a shiner."

"Right. And to think The Warrior didn't want to fight. He had to be mad as hell, Harry."

"I'm sure he was. I always thought he's so gentle, you know. Nice to everyone. A rough guy who used to deck the Maquis turned into Mr Nice."

"Yeah, right." 

Tom looked at Harry and kept his counsel. Chakotay had been goaded into fighting. He knew The Warrior was fighting for more than just saving the Captain's honour. She had to come to a decision, and the way things looked, she'd already made up her mind. 

He smiled wickedly. 

Michael was a boor, a weasel. Tom Paris saw to that. 

*

Chakotay breathed heavily and he could taste the blood again in his mouth. Michael didn't fare much better, throwing blind punches, sucking air. Chakotay laughed, then grunted as he shot out with a right jab heading for The Weasel's zygomatic arch. A bone crunched, The Weasel's head snapped back and he toppled over slowly. Chakotay stumbled into him, giving him another shove. The Weasel stayed on his feet, wobbled unsteadily, pitched forward right into Chakotay's oncoming left hook. A whoosh of air escaped him as he doubled over, then pitched face down to the floor. He landed with a soft thud, tried to raise himself, and managed to heave up slowly on one elbow. 

He looked with dazed eyes at Chakotay, then with a groan he turned his face to Kathryn. 

"Katy?" he mumbled through swollen lips, hardly able to breathe. Michael closed his eyes and sagged down, his head knocking loudly against the floor. 

Chakotay was still on his feet, snorting and breathing heavily, looking like he was drunk. He turned a little unsteadily to Kathryn. Kathryn resisted the impulse to laugh. Chakotay looked like he did the day he killed Baby Jake. Only a little worse. 

His nose was broken. Again. He was going to have a shiner. Again. He split his lip. Again. She felt like she'd won something. It was a feeling of exhilaration. She had to admit that it was lacking in finesse, this old style fighting, but she had this ridiculous feeling of being glad Chakotay won the bout. God! Once, Tom and Neelix did it and she had them on the carpet for their ungentlemanly behaviour. 

She looked at Chakotay like she was the girl who got The Winner. In spite of his swollen eye, the broken nose, the broken skin on his knuckles, there was a blazing fire in his eyes.

What now?

"Chakotay..." she breathed carefully. He looked like thunder. Why?

He stumbled closer, raised his hands which Kathryn could see had to have at least one broken finger, and grabbed her by the sides of her head. She gasped. 

He hauled her closer.

"Kathryn," he slurred, "tonight, I'm not a nice man."

His fingers pulled painfully into her hair as they found a firm hold. 

Her face was inches away from his.

She saw the burning specks in the pupils of his eyes.

Her heart thundered. She knew what was coming. Her breathing became erratic, her bosom heaved. She was panting with anticipation...

Chakotay pulled her roughly him, saw her parted lips and with a swiftness that seemed contrary to his immense size and his obvious exhaustion after going the rounds with The Weasel, he ground his mouth into hers. Her mouth was warm, soft, pliant as she opened for him and he plunged his tongue deep in. It was a bruising kiss with no finesse, no niceties, just hard, grinding with the need to pull her all the way into him. 

Kathryn did not demur.

Kathryn didn't want to.

Kathryn melted into him.

Chakotay groaned loudly. His hands clasped her head tightly as he branded his lips into hers.

At last he broke off the kiss.

He gasped. She gasped. She wanted more.

"Kathryn."

"Yes?" she croaked.

"This is me, Chakotay."

"Yes."

"I'm real, Kathryn."

"Yes."

He pulled her to him again, planted another bruising kiss before he broke it off again. 

"In the flesh."

"Yes!"

***

Tom and Harry made their departure. Tom lost his rations and thought it was the best bet he had ever lost. The Weasel was still out cold and The Warrior was still kissing his woman. A very compliant woman at that who kept saying whenever she was allowed to release her mouth from its locking position with The Warriors lips: Yes! Yes! 

Tom was happy. He got the Captain to make a decision. Harry was happy. He got to take Tom's rations. 

"Harry."

"Hmmm?"

"This is one programme the Captain won't be using again."

***

END


End file.
